


claimed

by ndnickerson



Series: the white and the key [1]
Category: Nancy Drew - Carolyn Keene
Genre: Alternate Universe, Bonding, Claiming, Cunnilingus, Dom/sub, F/M, Gender Role Reversal, Hurt/Comfort, Kidnapping, Reunion Sex, Reunions, Submission, Woman on Top
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-16
Updated: 2019-08-16
Packaged: 2020-09-02 07:57:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,302
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20272564
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ndnickerson/pseuds/ndnickerson
Summary: When Ned vanishes during one of Nancy's cases, she races to find him before she's lost him forever.





	claimed

**Author's Note:**

> This story involves a strengthening of the usual gender role dynamics I include in Nancy Drew fanfic. In this story, Nancy is dominant, both in their relationship and in life, and Ned is submissive. In canon and in most of my stories, this is true; their gender roles are usually at least partially reversed from traditional female and male.
> 
> While I've written Nancy and Ned roleplaying Dom/sub activities in other stories, this story goes beyond that. Their entire relationship is built around that dynamic, both sexually and not.
> 
> So, if the idea of reading a story with a male submissive, or with Ned being submissive, doesn't appeal, please skip this one. If you're intrigued, though, please read on.

Ned opened his eyes to darkness and the pounding of his heart.

He had been heading to his car after work, sliding his cell phone back into his pocket, messenger bag slung over his shoulder. He had just texted Nancy, letting her know he was on his way.

Chloroform. Ned was pretty sure he had managed to strike and injure his assailant at least a few times, but he hadn't been able to wrestle away from the cloying scent of the rag, clamped tight over his face and mouth.

_Nancy._

He could feel the pressure of a blindfold over his eyes, so he closed them again, trying to calm down. Nancy would be looking for him.

He was sitting on something. His hands were bound behind him; his feet were bound too. Something else had been tied over his mouth; he quirked his lips. Silky. A tie, maybe? He didn't think he was still wearing one.

He moved his right wrist slightly and pressed the familiar texture of the braided black leather bracelet into his skin, and a tear slipped from beneath his lowered eyelid.

He knew what case she was working. He knew who was probably behind his abduction, and if he was right... He hoped he wasn't. He hoped this was something else, someone else.

She would come for him.

But in the meantime, he would do what he could to make it easier for her.

\--

With a growing sense of dread, Nancy followed the signal locating Ned's phone to a Dumpster near where his car was still parked. His messenger bag had been dumped there, too.

"Fuck," she muttered. So he had made it here. When he hadn't come home, she had given him a little more time to account for traffic, then searched for his phone's signal.

She really, _really_ wished her hunch hadn't been right.

_Fuck._

The blacktop bore no signs of a struggle, but she hadn't expected it to; at least she hadn't found a pool of blood, a knocked-out tooth. She strode to the middle of the parking lot, drawing a lungful of the still-sultry air, and spun around in a slow circle, scanning for security cameras, ATMs, anything that might have caught his abduction, whoever attacked him.

If Rugen had done this... if her Ned was in his hands...

She clenched and released her fist a few times, raising her phone to make a call.

\--

Footsteps were approaching.

Ned raced back to where he had been sitting, or as close to it as he could remember, hastily adjusted the tie that had been knotted at the base of his skull and the blindfold, and pressed his bruised wrists together behind him. The scream he had heard a few minutes ago, the sound of someone in intense pain and fear, had left his heart hammering. From beyond the wall on the other side of his room, he could hear someone whimpering, pleading, likely praying.

With every passing moment, Ned was more sure it was Rugen. And that had given him a desperate energy. He _had_ to get out of here.

Once he had worked his hands free, though, exploring his tiny prison had been fruitless. The hot, windowless room was all wood-paneled, in flimsy imitation, the carpet was rough industrial, and it was totally empty. He needed something to pop the lock, or he could kick the door down or splinter the cheap paneling, but that was almost guaranteed to bring someone running. He _would_ figure something out, given time. But freeing himself from the ropes binding his wrists had been excruciating, dreading his discovery the entire time.

A key scratched in the lock, and the door opened.

Ned considered feigning unconsciousness, but kept his head up, tilted back against the wall. Not being able to see whoever had come in was just making things worse.

Nancy had told him once that a blindfold was _good_, sometimes. It meant a prisoner might be released, unable to positively identify the person who had been responsible.

Sometimes, though, it was just meant for psychological torture.

The footsteps stopped near him. He felt a hand on his hair, reaching for the blindfold.

Ned pulled a deep breath and lashed out, catching the other person with a surprised gasp as he kicked at where he was pretty sure legs would be, swinging with his fists. The blindfold fell loose around his neck and he saw pale skin, pale eyes, an angry frown—

A gun. Rugen brought it up and pressed the muzzle against Ned's neck. With his other hand, he swiped under his bloodied nose.

Immediately Ned froze, even though every part of him was desperate to scrabble away from the gun. He was panting, muscles tight.

Slowly, glaring the entire time, Rugen stood while keeping the gun trained on Ned. "I like a man with some spirit," he said, tilting his head. "Ned Nickerson."

_Drew._ Ned bit back the immediate retort. Rugen already knew; it was likely the whole reason he had even bothered to abduct Ned. He was thumbing his nose at her, at the power of her House, and Ned was just the most convenient means to do so.

"She will find me."

Rugen nodded, keeping his brightening gaze on Ned, and that managed to freeze Ned's blood. Seeing his captor bleeding, armed, cheerful at the thought of whatever he had planned. "She will," he agreed. 

"In pieces. After I'm done with you."

\--

Nancy couldn't sleep.

The M.O. was the same. The white van she had discovered after poring through surveillance at two of the other abduction sites was the same. Once she had confirmed that Rugen was almost certainly behind this, she had to find him. Ned was wherever Rugen was, so he was still in Chicago.

And his absence was like a perpetual buzzer in her head. He was out there, and the longer Rugen had him, the more likely that Nancy would never find him, that Rugen would take Ned away from her forever.

Ned was strong and resourceful, but this...

She just needed him home.

She went back over the clues she had gathered, looking for the man who had already claimed three victims they knew of. Rugen's medical training was limited, but his indoctrination and obsession with medical experimentation had resulted in nightmarish mutilation to the corpses they had found. Some of it had been pre-mortem.

Nancy set her jaw and moved to the next page of her well-thumbed file.

If he _dared_ lay a hand on what was hers...

She would find him. Ned would be okay.

Or she would burn the world down.

\--

Ned wasn't sure how much time had passed since he had become aware in his cell that first day. It felt like it had been a few days, but he couldn't tell. Blood loss, hunger, dehydration, the concussion he'd likely received the second time Rugen had come to his cell... Ah God, the bruises, and worse...

She would come for him. Whenever Ned woke, he knew that, clung to it, repeated it internally like a mantra. No matter what happened to him here, she would be waiting on the other side of it; she would take him home, and he would be whole again.

His hands were numb from the pressure of the shackles—oh, Rugen had learned after that first escape attempt, and Ned wasn't bound with rope anymore—but he still managed to press his wrist against his bare skin and feel the braided leather. Rugen had left it on. He'd said it would be a good way for Nancy to identify his corpse.

She would come for him.

Ned's room was pitch black, save the smallest bleed of light under the door. His clothes had been taken during a period when he had been sedated, and Rugen hadn't seen the need to return or replace them. Humiliation seemed the likeliest reason for that.

She would come for him.

Instead a high, shrill scream came to him, ending in rapid babbling he couldn't quite understand. Begging and pleading, from the next room. He'd definitely felt that before.

Slowly Ned slumped down onto his side, wincing at the pressure against bruises on his arm, and began to maneuver so his hands were in front of him. He could wait beside the door, gain the element of surprise, maybe. Swing his arms like a weapon and catch Rugen in the face.

Something. Anything, any way he could help. Maybe he'd be able to find a way to contact her somewhere in this place. Maybe if he knocked Rugen out and found his phone.

He was lightheaded, hunger dull as a stone in him. And any death was better than the one Rugen had planned for him.

But she would come for him. He just had to find a way to help.

\--

It was their fourth attempt of the day, and Nancy could sense the officers' flagging enthusiasm. Three breeches, all swarmed by officers who cleared everything and discovered nothing. Now, they expected more of the same, and she couldn't blame them. This building seemed the least likely; tall weeds screened the abandoned plant and its parking lot from the nearby highway, and a few of the high windows had been cracked by well-thrown rocks. A delivery door stood open, revealing a weathered, molding mess of cardboard, papers, and crushed beer cans. The place had eight exits, and required a call for backup that the head of the squad handled with boredom in her voice.

Then Nancy saw the blinking light on a security camera on the exterior of a building that had been, on the books anyway, without electrical service for years.

Her mouth went dry.

_Baby, I'm coming. Just hold on a little while longer._

The front door was booby-trapped, and _that_ felt exactly like Rugen. Slowly the officers became more cautious, more focused, as a team set to work disabling the security, another team to disabling the physical traps. Armed team members were posted on all exits, in case Rugen or his accomplice ran.

They entered the building, Nancy just behind the leader, communicating in the quietest whispers through throat mics. Once Ned was secure, they could take Rugen down, but they had to make sure he didn't spook and run. For all they knew, he had the place on a dead man's switch he could rig somehow.

He was a sadistic son of a bitch, and knowing that Ned had been his captive for so long made Nancy cold and all the more determined to take Rugen down.

And if Rugen had hurt Ned... well, he had forfeited his own life; it was as simple as that.

The first captive they found wasn't Ned, and he was close to death, clearly in shock and tremendous pain. Nancy's stomach twisted into a hard knot, her jaw set as she watched a pair of officers help him up and escort him out, supporting his weight far more than he himself was doing. She shoved all other thoughts out of her mind and focused only on the objective. Ned was here; she would find him and take him home. He was okay. He would be okay.

Rugen's mockery of an operating theater had been set up in the next office. The lights after all the pitch darkness were almost blinding, and Nancy had the vaguest impressions of the room: blue drapes, silver poles, a man dressed in scrubs with a mask over his lower face, a naked man bound to a hospital bed—

Ned.

Nancy tapped the control on her throat mic so she wouldn't blow the other team members' eardrums and raised her gun. "_Freeze,_" she shouted.

There was blood on Ned's skin.

Rage swelled in her, perfect and devastating.

Light flashed on the knife in Rugen's hand.

She heard, but did not comprehend, the leader's murmured confirmation of finding Ned, the quietest rustle of a sleeve against a Kevlar vest behind her as the leader likely raised a gun. All Nancy knew was that Rugen had hurt Ned, and that knife could hurt him again.

She squeezed the trigger three times. Two in the head, one in the heart.

Before Rugen's corpse even collapsed to the ground, Nancy was rushing toward Ned. He was sluggish, his lashes fluttering. He'd likely been sedated, but he wasn't in good shape. The days of captivity had hollowed his cheeks. He had been hurt.

Nancy cupped his cheek, and he forced his eyes open, his gaze tender when it met hers. The fear and rage folded back on itself as she smiled gently at him.

"You're going to be okay," she swore. "It's okay. We're going home."

He smiled. His lips were cracked, chapped. "I knew you'd come for me," he whispered.

The leader approached her, taking loud steps to announce her presence. Nancy appreciated it; as keyed up as she was, _everyone_ around her looked like a target now, everyone other than him. 

"The suspect was threatening a hostage," the leader said quietly, from just behind Nancy. "That will be in my report."

Nancy thanked her with a nod, without looking back.

\--

They took Ned to the closest hospital, and he had to fight his revulsion. It was too close; it was too much. But Nancy had found him.

At least, he was pretty sure she had. Every time he regained consciousness, every time he was able to focus his chaotic thoughts, he looked for her. Sometimes he was able to find her, at the periphery, and those familiar blue eyes he loved so much locked to his and held his gaze until he could calm down. Sometimes they were somewhere else and he couldn't find her, and those times were the worst.

The fear swelled so rapidly when the nurse was trying to insert the IV that Ned nearly lashed out. He could hear his own heart pounding rapidly, echoed by the chirps on the monitor at his bedside.

When he opened his eyes again, the room was dark, but the television was on. He focused on that, reminding himself that it meant he was free. The banality of just a commercial, a happy family on the way to a restaurant—

A greasy burger, cheese melting down the sides of the patty. Ned's stomach growled loudly.

"It's okay, baby. When we leave here I'll buy you the biggest burger. Five of them."

She was there. Ned gasped in a breath when he saw her, flipping his hand under hers so he could lace his fingers between and hold her tight. A hospital ID bracelet was tied around his wrist; he glanced to the other, to the black braided leather, the three gold bands there, each with a tiny diamond in the middle. It was the traditional design, but he had never thought he would be so lucky as to wear hers.

She had promised him past, present, and future. Those three bands were a reminder.

He could still remember, very clearly, the day it had been knotted around his wrist, bound tight to him. All of him had glowed with devotion to her.

The braided leather wasn't tight against his skin anymore.

"How long?" he whispered, and turned to meet her eyes.

She shook her head. "Too long," she replied, and reached up to cup his cheek. "The doctor told me... what happened to you. I want to find wherever they took his corpse and set it on fire."

He placed his hand over hers and nuzzled against her, and just the feel of her skin against his cheek was bliss. "You're here," he whispered. "Please take me home."

She nodded. "As soon as they'll let me." She leaned forward and pressed a long, soft kiss at the corner of his mouth, and his lips trembled. She knew, and she was still touching him. She wasn't recoiling from him in disgust.

"You're mine, Edmund," she whispered against his skin, and his heart beat harder at the promise he heard in her voice. "No matter what. I love you."

His lashes drifted down. "I love you," he whispered, forcing the words past the lump in his throat.

\--

Rugen had been holding four men captive when they found him. One had been loaded in the back of the van Nancy had seen on the surveillance, ready to take somewhere to dump. He had been identified using dental records. The damage done to him, the mutilation, the pain inflicted, had been horrific.

_That could have been Ned._

One man had been captive longer than Ned, one for less time. All of them were suffering from dehydration and starvation, and what Nancy could only think of as torture. Psychological, physical, emotional.

_Her_ Ned. He had taken _her_ Ned and hurt him terribly.

She came in while he was in the shower, and when she caught sight of the scabbed-over wounds, the bruises, the raw places on his wrists that were only now healing, she was choked by her rage. When she had claimed Ned, that claiming had bound them for the rest of their lives, had brought him into her House and the protection of her family. To know that someone had dared touch him...

She knew of only one thing she could possibly do. She would have to claim him again.

Once her mind was made up, she stripped her clothes off quickly and tapped on the shower door before stepping into the stall with him. He turned to her and she reached up, standing on her tiptoes, pressing her body against his as she kissed him, hard.

Ned's arms came around her as she backed him against the wall, their mouths still joined. She slid her fingers into his wet hair and closed them in a fist, gripping without tugging, her other hand at the back of his neck. The water pounded down around them both, and her kiss was hard, insistent, as she stroked her tongue against his.

"Mistress," he whispered, his face wet, as they parted.

She nodded, gazing up into his sweet brown eyes. He was perfect, gentle, so loving, and when he had been delirious and rambling in the hospital, he told her about how he had tried to help her, how he had tried to find a way to reach her. How he had been punished for his attempts.

How he had been hurt.

"Mine," she told him, her voice low. Her face was set as she gazed at him. "_Mine._"

He took a breath and dropped to his knees, bowing his head, his arms relaxed at his sides as he rested his cheek against her leg.

She drew her fingers through his hair a few times, then reached over and turned the water off. "Not unless you want it, baby," she told him, tenderly. "Do you?"

"Yes, mistress," he said, and kissed her knee.

They were both still damp as they went to their bedroom, but Ned sat at the edge of the bed, naked save his wedding band and the bracelet braided around his wrist. He gazed at her expectantly, relaxed and waiting for her, and the livid bruises and new scabs woke her rage all over again.

But not for him. Never for him. He was hers, willingly and eagerly, for the rest of their lives. He had taken her name and she had promised her protection, the shelter of her House, and she had failed.

She needed to show him that she loved him. She needed to show him that he was no less in her eyes.

Nancy climbed onto the bed, straddling his upper thighs, and gazed into his eyes. "I failed you," she said, her voice low.

Immediately Ned shook his head, his brow furrowing. "It wasn't your fault," he insisted.

"My job is to protect you."

"And you do. You found me." He slid his arms around her, and being so close to him like this, feeling his palms against the small of her back and knowing what pleasure she could take in him, sent a tiny shiver down her spine. "I wanted to help..."

"I know, baby." She cupped his face. "You will always be my beloved one. Always. And when you're ready, I'll take you inside me and love you until you feel safe again."

He nodded, solemn. "Please," he breathed.

She wrapped her arms around him and kissed him hungrily, and he responded by holding her tight to him, eagerly returning it. She rubbed herself against him, nuzzling his neck, licking his earlobe.

He shivered, seeking her again, and she kissed him hard. His cock was stirring between them and she stroked it, her touch firm and smooth, feeling him gasp in return. "Mine," she told him, holding him in her hand, and he was flushed, his lips wet and beestung from their kiss. She gave his shoulder a gentle shove and he obeyed immediately, lowering himself to the mattress, gazing up at her.

"Mine," she said again, feeling the weight of it bone-deep, the trust he had in her, the love and devotion he felt for her. He was strong, her Ned; he alone had been able to move her to this, to draw her in until she could imagine a life where he waited at home for her, where he would give her children, where he would share her name and her bed.

No one else had really thought she could do it, lower her guard enough to take a man. But this rare, beautiful man under her, who gave himself freely, letting her take her pleasure and finding his own in hers...

She showed him again, who he belonged to, as she kissed his cock and stroked her tongue along the tip. She showed him as she straddled him, rubbing her arousal over the hard, thick length of him, preparing him for what they both wanted and needed. She locked her gaze to his and felt him tense and relax under her. When she saw a brief change in his expression, she kept rubbing against him as she leaned down.

"Be here with me," she ordered him softly, and he slid an arm around her, nodding. "Are you here for me?"

"Always," he breathed. Then he drew in a sharper breath, and his eyes gleamed faintly. "Please, my love."

His cock was slippery in her grip as she angled him, and her lashes fluttered as she sank onto him, sheathing him, enveloping him. He gasped, his mouth dropping open as he luxuriated in the pleasure of being one with her. She moved slowly against him, gentle and slick, letting him become accustomed to this again.

Then his hand slid down, and he met her eyes, waiting for her nod of approval before he began to caress her clit. The sensation sent a delighted shudder up her spine, and she began to ride him in rougher thrusts, her breasts trembling. Ned watched her, his dark eyes soft with adoration and desire, and his other hand gripped her thigh.

Her Ned had such control, but he was spent tonight, tired, wounded. His strokes against her clit grew rapid, betraying his need, and she adjusted her weight to thrust her hips with longer, harder strokes.

Then she collapsed to him, pushing his hand aside so she could rapidly fondle her clit, and her hips jolted as she reached her climax. Ned tensed as her inner flesh clenched and relaxed around his cock, as her body returned the pleasure his was giving her, until they were both gasping, almost rutting together. He propped himself up a little and her mouth found his, and they kissed deeply. He felt so, so fucking good inside her, where he belonged, and she felt wet and tender and perfectly, completely feminine around him.

"Come," she breathed against his parted lips, and with a few frantic pumps of his hips against hers, he obeyed.

He was an incredible man. On another night like this, she might conceive a sweet, strong boy, a fierce, beautiful girl. And Ned would be devoted to all of them, to her and to the child he had been lucky enough to give her.

Nancy moaned, stroking her clit a few more times, her inner flesh pulsing around him to draw his semen deep inside her. Ned was hers; all of him was hers, and most especially this.

With a soft groan Ned slumped under her, and she reached up to stroke his brow as he panted for breath. "Rest," she whispered. "I'm here. I'll always be here."

\--

Ned's eyes opened to darkness, his heart pounding in his chest.

Almost immediately the signs came to him: the soft mattress against his bare skin, instead of carpet or the scratchy sheets on Rugen's hospital bed. The arms around him, holding him in a tender embrace. Nancy's bare breast under his cheek.

Her scent and the memory of their lovemaking, of her making them one again, claiming him for her own.

Ned's jaw tightened as he pulled in a swift breath, a lump rising in his throat. She was his everything, this brilliant, incredible woman. Even now, after so long, seeing the black leather bracelet on his wrist made his heart kick in his chest, made him ache with the need to fall to his knees before her and bask in her pride. She could have had anyone without lifting a finger, without a second thought. Nancy Drew _needed_ no one.

But he had managed to catch her attention, to show her his heart, and she had slowly grown to _want_ him.

And if it had come to it, Ned would have fought anyone for the unimaginable joy of being hers. He belonged to her, body and soul, but he would have anyway, whether she returned his feelings or not. The day she had accepted his devotion and sworn to claim him as _her_ man... there had been no words for his happiness.

He eased away from her gently, the loss of contact almost like a physical blow, and padded through their room to the bathroom. He was safe here, and he let himself realize it all over again. Nancy had killed the man who had hurt him. Once he felt ready, she had let him watch her personal recording of it.

It was just taking his heart a little while to catch up with what his head already knew.

Almost absently he gathered the towels they had left on the floor, and washed his hands. He crossed naked to their bed, his steps slow, grateful when he didn't wake her.

_Mistress._ She had rolled over in her sleep, and the sight of her bare back, pale in the moonlight, sent a shudder over him. He craved her touch, the incredible pleasure of being between her thighs, the incomparable gift of her clit under his thumb. That she allowed him any part in their lovemaking, that she allowed him to participate as she slaked her need...

He gently rested his palm against her back, feeling it rise and fall as she breathed. "Mistress," he whispered, just louder than her own breath.

She made a quiet sound and rolled over. He would never dream of doing this while she slept, or without her permission; his heart was in his throat as he moved the covers off her and leaned down, pressing a feather-light kiss just under her belly button.

She moaned softly, and his cock jumped in response. Then she threaded her fingers through his hair. "You may," she murmured.

"I love you."

"And I love you, my treasure," she whispered, her other hand cupping her breast.

He parted her legs just as she had taught him, wide, and released his own moan at the incredible gift of her permission. Seeing the beautiful, glistening folds that she allowed him to nestle between, exposed and ready for his ministrations... Ah God, just the memory of it had him bowing his head in gratitude and love.

He worshipped her with kisses and strokes of his tongue against her belly, her inner thighs, the curve of her mons. The first taste of her arousal when he parted her sex and stroked his tongue over her flushed, glistening labia sent a delighted frisson down his spine.

Every time he knew that she was attracted to him, every time he was able to experience the delirious pleasure of seeing her exposed and aroused, he felt humbled all over again. Her desire for him and his touch had done this, had made her tender and slick between her thighs. Being able to answer and fulfill her need was a joy beyond his wildest dreams. That she was sharing this with him... 

"I love you," he murmured against her sex.

"I love you," she replied, and the breathless vulnerability in her voice was its own aphrodesiac, even as she gripped his hair, keeping his head between her legs. Encouraging him to give her what she wanted.

He drew her clit into his mouth and suckled.

She moaned, a low, needy sound that made him glow with warmth and pride. "Yes," she growled. "Yes, baby."

He lost himself in the pleasure of it, licking and suckling, teasing and nipping, feeling her quiver under him, feeling her tighten her grip on his hair. He knew exactly how to read her and respond to her, how to give her what she wanted, just as she had patiently taught him. It was when her grip relaxed so she could pinch and fondle both her nipples as he sucked at her clit, that he felt another jolt of pride and desperate, overwhelming need. She trusted him to do this for her, to be so incredibly intimate with her.

"Oh, _oh!_ Don't stop, _don't stop..."_

He kept going, feeling her hips jolt against his face, feeling her quiver under him. Sometimes when he did this, she flipped over and pinned him under her, but tonight he wanted her to do as little as possible. Tonight, he wanted her to relax and let him bring her to release.

Her gasps and moans dropped low, and then she was crying out in pleasure. When he pushed her hands aside, still teasing her clit and licking it and her labia as he fondled her nipples, she arched and he exulted. Worshipping her body with his own, loving and caressing and stroking her until she reached climax... it was an experience beyond any other. Her trust in him was monumental.

She released a high scream, bucking under him, and when he suckled again, she dragged her nails against his shoulders and gripped him tight. At her next scream he moved down and plunged his tongue between the wet folds, feeling her spasm around the intrusion. His erection, already curved fully upward and throbbing at the edge of insistent pain, twitched again.

Using the patience she had taught him, he ignored it, dragging his tongue up to her clit again and fondling it, pinching her nipples and caressing her breasts until she came again. She arched and tipped her head back, sobbing between hoarse cries.

No one else saw her this way. She trusted no one else to see her so vulnerable.

She tapped him once, signaling she was spent and oversensitized, and Ned released her immediately. He slid off the bed and onto his knees beside it, clasping his rock-hard erection, waiting, motionless. He had no idea what she might want, after, and he wouldn't stroke himself unless she explicitly permitted it.

He still, very vividly, remembered the night she had told him that every drop of his semen was hers, that she was greedy for it. That unless she said, from that day forward, she swore the only place he would spend himself was inside her.

That promise had made him lightheaded with ecstasy.

She panted her breath back, then released a soft sigh that was almost its own moan. Ned closed his eyes, smiling. He belonged to the most incredible woman in the world, and she had let him help her come.

Then she sat up. "Edmund," she whispered, a quiet, sweet lilt in her voice.

"Mistress."

"Come to me."

He crawled into the bed and laid prostrate before her, his arms loose, his face pressed to her naked thigh. The musky scent of her arousal made his cock throb again.

"Do you need me, pet?" She gently combed her fingers through his hair.

"Always," he murmured against her skin.

"Tell me how you need me."

"With every breath, every beat of my heart. All of me." He kissed her gently. The join of her thighs was so close. "I ache for you," he breathed.

"Do you want me to hold you inside?"

The stroke of her fingers against his scalp was so good that he could almost purr in happiness, if not for the insistent ache of his cock.

"Do you want me to make you safe again, my treasure?"

"Yes." His voice was shaking slightly. "Please, mistress. I will give you everything."

"Yes." She stroked his hair again, then gently urged him to rise. Their lips met in a kiss that became almost brutal in its hunger, and she stroked her tongue in his mouth, growling as she tasted her own arousal there. Her cool, gentle fingers found his hard cock, and he released himself as she pumped him in her fist twice, slow and leisurely.

He was so aroused that even those first few drops of pre-cum almost had him rolling his eyes back.

Then her thumb was caressing the head of his cock, dragging the slick pre-cum in a maddening circle over the tender flesh, and Ned trembled with need, releasing a long, pleading moan.

She relaxed her grip, then lowered herself to her back and opened her legs.

"Come home."

Though his eyes widened, he didn't have to be told twice. Inside her, God, she was so plush and slippery, tender and _perfect_.

With her permission, at her urging, he slid his entire length between her legs and paused there, clenching and releasing his fist to keep himself from responding to her with a rapid, frenzied set of thrusts ending in trembling release. Everything about their lovemaking was her choice, based on what she had taught him, what he had observed and knew about her. It was just as they both wanted it to be.

She wrapped one of her legs around him and rolled them onto their sides, still joined. Ned released a sound that was almost a gasp when he felt her hand slide to where they were joined so she could fondle her clit.

"You feel so good inside me," she told him. "Like you were made for me. My beloved.

"Come home."

He took a breath and then they were moving together, their hips grinding in shallow thrusts, her nipples dragging against his chest, her fingers stroking her clit and the base of his cock, and then she was nipping at his lower lip. He parted his lips under hers and returned her hungry kiss eagerly, especially when she gasped against it and he felt her clench around his throbbing cock.

They came at the exact same time, crying out, their movements frantic as he finally relaxed his grip on himself and gave her his cum. Her lips were against his, her fingers rapidly stimulating her clit, and she stiffened as her body caressed and sheathed his erection.

"Mine," she whispered, her voice breathless. "My strong, beautiful man. I love you."

Tears slipped from beneath his lashes, tears he had been holding back for days now. He hadn't given in to fear. He had focused only on this, only on getting back to her. And if she had rejected him, found him unworthy of her trust and love after what had happened to him...

But she hadn't. She had brought him home.

She kissed his tears away, stroking them from his cheeks. "Yes," she whispered. "You're safe. Safe inside me. My Ned, my beloved."

He opened his eyes then, and seeing the tenderness and love in her gaze cracked his heart. "Mine," he whispered hoarsely, holding her tight. "My mistress, I love you. I..."

He choked, then, rendered speechless by the weight of his love for her, his devotion and need. She nodded, stroking his hair. She knew him so intimately. She had seen his eager joy at being claimed by her.

"You have pleased me so much tonight."

She was never sparing with her praise when he had earned it, but the delight that suffused him was almost orgasmic. He bowed his head, nuzzling against her. "I live to serve you," he murmured, and there was such freedom, such relief in the admission. In knowing that she saw him for all that he truly was, and she accepted him and loved him.

"Sleep, my angel," she whispered, caressing his cheek. When he sighed softly and began to move away from her, to part so he could bring a cloth and clean her first, she tightened her grip on him. He relaxed, unsure of what she wanted.

"Sleep inside me and be safe."

"Nancy," he whispered, his voice trembling.

"Shh." She stroked his hair, and he closed his eyes, memorizing the feel of her like this. "My sweet, gentle Ned. I would burn the world down for you. You are worth everything."

His heart swelled with pride, and he clung to her, nestled safe inside her. He wanted to stay inside this moment forever, loved by and aching with love for her.

And then the tide carried him away, rocked to sleep in the arms of the only woman he would ever love.

**Author's Note:**

> Please do leave feedback, especially if you enjoyed it! I liked writing this story and am considering writing a few more in this little universe.


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